


The Possibility of Existence Unperceived

by timkons



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, M/M, Slice of Life, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-08
Updated: 2017-09-08
Packaged: 2018-12-25 05:04:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12028722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timkons/pseuds/timkons
Summary: If you have a soulmate mark and you never look at it, does it decide who you fall in love with?





	The Possibility of Existence Unperceived

**Author's Note:**

> pls read the fic before clicking if you want to avoid spoilers, but [tiniblu](https://tiniblu.tumblr.com/) drew [an adorable comic](https://tiniblu.tumblr.com/post/165340306323/based-on-this-super-good-fic-by-90stimkon) of one of the scenes!

Bokuto’s parents are soulmates. They also happen to be divorced. On the day they sign the papers to split custody and establish visitation rights, Bokuto buys a sweatband and covers the soulmate tattoo on his wrist. 

“It’s for practice,” he tells both of his parents, individually, even though its true purpose is to keep Bokuto from fixating on the unique symbol that his soulmate shares.

-

Bokuto used to love the idea of having a soulmate. He’d trace his parent’s tattoos as a child with wonder and awe, waiting for the day he’d meet the person with a mark that matched the ink spots on his wrist. At school, he’d compare his marks with his classmates on Valentine’s Day, insisting that his mark matched the prettiest boy or girl in class, even though the wrist marks were wildly different. And of course, as a child, his favorite movies were the ones where the hero pulled back the princess’ sleeve to reveal that their soulmate marks matched. 

This Valentine’s Day, he doesn’t shove his wrist against anybody else’s to see if it’s a match. He remains in his seat as the rest of class swarms around each other, all skinny wrists and scrutinizing eyes. His parents met like this in elementary school. It wasn’t even last year that they’d tell him, dreamy looks on their faces, of how they met during a soulmark reveal party and had been inseparable ever since. Now his dad goes silent whenever Bokuto says his mom’s name, and his mom starts crying when Bokuto shyly scratches the back of his head in the way he learned from his dad. Bokuto used to think there couldn’t be anything sadder than finding somebody perfect for you and then losing them, but now he knows. The only thing worse than losing your soulmate is finding your soulmate and then growing to hate them.

Bokuto curls in on himself over his desk, crossing out the hearts on the pink and red papers with a black crayon. He doesn’t want anything to do with it. 

-

Bokuto just doesn’t get it. How could somebody made specially for you hurt you?

-

Soulmate tattoos aren’t all that exciting to middle schoolers, but Bokuto can’t avoid it by high school. Bokuto’s never considered his looks or skills on the court to be a disadvantage, but he almost wishes he could be invisible with the number of girls trying to pry off his wristband everyday. It’s doesn’t matter how hard or how often they poke and prod, it won’t make the marks on their wrists any closer to matching Bokuto’s. After weeks of dodging sneak attack after sneak attack, Bokuto can’t wait for Fukuroudani Academy’s training camp, if only to escape the gaggle of fans trying to insist they’re his soulmate.

-

There’s nothing Bokuto loves quite as much as volleyball. It’s the only thing that he can truly lose himself in. When he’s playing volleyball, he doesn’t have to think about soulmates or his crappy grades or any other worry weighing him down. 

At least, volleyball _used_ to be that for him. Now he can’t help but notice all the little blots of black along the blockers’ and setters’ wrists. There’s a flash of black when the other team’s ace jumps up and spikes the ball, and his team’s libero dives to save the ball, both arms stretched out before him and the ball bumping against the delicate soulmark. It’s like Bokuto can’t turn around without seeing a soulmate mark staring him in the face.

So it’s a bit of a surprise when Bokuto jumps up and pulls his arm back for a spike, only to see a wristband like his own on one of Nekoma’s players. Bokuto’s wrist connects with the ball, slamming it right into that sweatband, where he can’t pull his eyes away, instead of onto the court.

“Yes!” the middle blocker cheers as both of their sneakers squeak against the floor, groaning beneath the force and weight of their muscles. Bokuto’s focused on the white wristband too much to bother whining about his failed attack. 

“You cover yours too,” Bokuto says before he realizes the words are coming out of his mouth. 

“Hm?” The guy looks at him curiously, something in his expression clicking into place when Bokuto holds up his covered wrist too. “Oh, yeah. I hate the idea that something decides for me who I can be with for the rest of my life.” 

Bokuto nods emphatically at the explanation. Never before has he been able to put it into words, but when said like that, it sounds perfect.

-

“Why do you keep it covered?” Bokuto asks over dinner. He hasn’t known the guy for more than an hour, but already he’s learned that the guy’s name is Kuroo, he’s a first-year too, and his blocks are hands down Bokuto’s favorite. 

Kuroo shrugs as he douses his rice with the vegetable broth from his side dish. “Why not? I don’t really care about soulmates or anything like that. I’d rather choose the people in my life.” 

“Yeah, yeah!” Bokuto agrees. It sounds more like a, ‘mmmggh, mmmgh!’ considering his cheeks are stuffed with rice, but he manages to swallow without choking. “And it’s like, sometimes it doesn’t even work out.”

“Or your soulmate isn’t a romantic soulmate,” Kuroo adds, pointing his chopsticks at Bokuto with a grin. “My parents aren’t soulmates and they’re just fine. My mom’s best friend shares a mark with her but they’re not in love or anything. So what’s the point?”

Bokuto hums, suddenly feeling his appetite disappear at the thought of his parents. He quietly sets his chopsticks over the half-eaten bowl of rice. “My parents are soulmates.”

“Oh yeah?” Kuroo says, but he doesn’t sound all that interested. If anything, his tone is on the edge of concerned, probably from Bokuto’s sudden sullenness.

Bokuto knows he’s moody and that people worry about him, but he can’t help it. It still hurts to think about his childhood home, which his parents agreed to sell and split the profits because neither wanted to live in a house filled with so many memories of the other. Sometimes he still tears up while packing his bags to stay with other half of the people he calls his parents every other week. It’s been years, but Bokuto’s heart hurts and his wrist goes cold whenever reality sinks in. “They’re divorced.”

“Oh.” This time there’s genuine sincerity in Kuroo’s voice. “Sorry to hear that.”

Bokuto shakes his head, scooping up another mouthful of rice. “So I don’t believe in soulmates.”

“Cool. Me neither,” Kuroo says while mirroring Bokuto’s actions. He smirks conspiringly over the table, and the look has Bokuto’s cheeks heating up and beginning to perk into a smile again. 

-

So of course they become best friends.

-

The first time they hang out after Shinzen, Bokuto meets Kuroo at his station. It’s nearly a twenty-minute ride to Kuroo’s station and another half-hour to Shibuya, but Bokuto would rather chill with Kuroo on the train than wait around all alone. By, ‘hanging out,’ Bokuto meant catching up on how their teams are doing, maybe crack some jokes about other passengers, or ask Kuroo the most recent worry on his mind: ‘if I ate myself, would I become twice as big or would I disappear completely?’ 

He most certainly didn’t expect to be flipping through a gossip magazine a middle-aged aunty left behind. Kuroo flips to a page randomly and begins howling so loud that some of the other passengers glare at them. 

“Dude! You’re gonna get us kicked off!” Bokuto hisses. He tries to take the magazine away, but Kuroo snatches it back.

Kuroo does his best not to laugh, but it’s a weak attempt at best, still pointing at the headline. “Look at this!” 

“What the shape of your soulmate mark means about your soulmate,” Bokuto reads out loud, unable to stop a few snickers himself. What makes it more ridiculous are all the graphs explaining how a triangle shape means that your soulmate is an intellectual or a square shape means that your soulmate is creative. “So stupid. It’s not like marks have anything to do with the people.”

“Right!” Kuroo says after regaining his breath. “People want to know about their soulmate so badly, but a soulmate is just another person. I read a study the other day that shows a pair of soulmates aren’t biologically different from two strangers. Stuff like this is junk.”

“Yeah, it’s stupid,” Bokuto agrees, though he can’t help himself; he scans the page for what it says about circular soulmate marks, like his own, and reads that the shape means his soulmate is romantic and passionate. Bokuto snorts at the very thought of his soulmate believing such a thing. (Although. If Bokuto is being honest, it sounds accurate for himself.) 

-

“Is that your soulmate?” Kuroo’s neighbor asks bluntly the first time Bokuto visits Kuroo’s house. 

“It’s rude to ask questions without introducing yourself,” Kuroo scolds, in a voice that makes him sound like the unofficial parent of his smaller, brooding neighbor. “And you know I don’t believe in that crap. Anyway, Kenma, this is Bokuto. Bokuto, this is Kenma.”

“Why would you invite anybody over unless they’re your soulmate?” Kenma asks, rolling his eyes and dragging his heels toward Kuroo’s front door.

Kenma doesn’t bother introducing himself formally, and that’s fine with Bokuto because he couldn’t introduce himself even if he tried. 

“You okay?” Kuroo asks, and Bokuto nods with an uneasy smile. “Sorry about that. He’s not the most socially aware, but he’s a good guy. One of my best friends.”

“Sure,” Bokuto barely manages to squeak out. In truth his cheeks are still hot from the implication of being Kuroo’s soulmate. His stomach clenches, not entirely uncomfortably, when Bokuto imagines Kuroo’s wristband slipping enough to see his mark there. 

-

“I can’t believe there are people out there who wait their whole lives to meet their soulmate,” Kuroo says, laughing at the news. They’re covering a story on a man who has been proposing to a woman for the last fifty years.

“I don’t want to say yes because I’m waiting for my soulmate,” she says on their screen. Kuroo throws some of the chips they’re snacking on at the TV, the woman explaining all her hopes for her soulmate. “I don’t regret my choice to wait. If I only get five minutes with my soulmate, I’m sure it will be more fulfilling than fifty years with a man who isn’t made for me.”

“You might never meet him!” Kuroo yells at the TV. Bokuto laughs, sinking deeper into the couch. His shoulder brushes against Kuroo’s and Kuroo reflexively leans against Bokuto. When Kuroo wraps an arm over the couch, his fingertips nearly brush against the raised hairs on the back of Bokuto’s neck.

“Imagine if he’s in Cambodia with no way of getting out,” Bokuto jokes, practically breathing in Kuroo’s ear. 

“Why Cambodia?”

“I don’t know, sounds cool.”

“Hmm.” They’re so close that when Kuroo tilts his chin to face Bokuto, his lips brush against Bokuto’s cheek. “He could be dead.”

“Could be. Waiting for soulmates is dumb,” Bokuto says, unsure if he’s agreeing with Kuroo or trying to convince himself. 

-

In his second-year, Fukuroudani Academy gets a new setter. His name is Akaashi Keiji and his sets are so perfect that Bokuto lets himself believe -- maybe even hope -- that Akaashi could be his soulmate. His mark is round and fat, like Bokuto’s, but it’s hard to tell from afar.

The question weighs heavily on his mind for weeks. It’s not something he can ask Kuroo, knowing his friend would make fun of him for claiming to not believe in soulmates and then trying to compare his mark to the new kid’s. And maybe Bokuto doesn’t really want to bring it up to Kuroo because other reasons. Because it would hurt to talk to Kuroo about a soulmate mark that wasn’t his own or Kuroo’s. Bokuto knows it sounds stupid and he tries to reassure himself that even if Akaashi has the same mark, their bond could be platonic, like Kuroo’s mom and her friend.

A week later, Bokuto finally sneaks a peek at Akaashi’s soulmate mark in the locker rooms, breathing out a subtle but pleased sigh of relief when he sees that Akaashi’s mark is definitely different from his own.

-

That night, Bokuto finally gets a full night's rest again, dreaming of running his fingertips down Kuroo’s forearm and peeling the wristband off. In his dreams, Bokuto’s soulmark is on Kuroo’s wrist.

-

Bokuto and Kuroo make it a whole year of constant texting, meeting up after practices, and gaming on the weekends until Akaashi meets Kenma. Bokuto had been excited to show off his new setter to Kuroo’s old friend at the annual training camp, but moments after Akaashi sets the first ball to Bokuto, Kenma says, “oh,” eyes trained on Akaashi’s wrist. 

Bokuto spikes the ball as amazingly as usual, and Kuroo does one of his awesome blocks, so it’s a bit of a shock when Akaashi doesn’t dive to keep the ball in play and prevent the other team from scoring. “What’s the deal, Akaashi!?” 

He follows Akaashi’s intensely focused gaze across the net, where Kenma’s holding up his wrist, a shape matching Akaashi’s inked on his wrist.

-

Bokuto and Kuroo sneak out, only because Akaashi and Kenma are first years and don’t know how to sneak out properly, so it’s their duty as responsible upperclassmen to teach them. Seated a safe distances away so that Kenma’s and Akaashi’s voices are barely echoes of a whisper, Bokuto pets his wrist band with a single fingertip. “Ever wonder what my tattoo looks--”

“No,” Kuroo cuts him off, but it sounds more bitter than usual. 

-

“Hey,” Bokuto says casually, taking his usual seat at Kuroo’s table during breakfast. Kuroo’s eyebrows are bent into a glare, and Bokuto doesn’t have to follow it to know that he’s staring at Akaashi and Kenma. They’re eating together at a different table today, three whole tables between Kenma and his usual seat beside Kuroo. Bokuto could eat the tension in the air for breakfast, but it wouldn’t taste good. “Soooo… Last night you were kind of…pathetic.”

“Pathetic?” Kuroo squawks out, offended. It’s not the best reaction, but Bokuto will take it over brooding. “You hit five serves in a row into the net!”

“Stop reminding me!” Bokuto barks back. He begins to mash his egg into his rice, but he’s smiling in spite of the reminder of his moody performance yesterday. He hadn’t been able to land a proper serve since Akaashi and Kenma confirmed their marks matched, a bit shocked and shaken up himself. 

“Oh wait,” Kuroo corrects himself, smirk already in place, “wasn’t it actually six that you missed!”

“Shut up!” Bokuto stuffs a clump of rice into his mouth and his smile falls a little as he watches Kuroo’s lips begin to set into a frown again. His stomach flips over tensely, filling him with the feeling that he’s not hungry even though he definitely is. Kuroo is a friend, his best friend, and that’s why he has to ask, even though he’s scared of the answer. “Is it because you’re…for Kenma?”

Kuroo’s face snaps back to Bokuto, this time horrified. “What? No! He’s like a little brother to me!”

“Then are you jealous he found his soulmate?” Bokuto asks carefully. A part of him was immediately jealous of Akaashi, even though he doesn’t believe in soulmates. Seeing Akaashi smiling more happily than Bokuto had ever seen and all of a sudden, of course he was going to be jealous!

“No. It has nothing to do with soulmates,” Kuroo assures. He finally looks away from the new couple, picking at his breakfast rice. 

Bokuto doesn’t believe him for one second, and he’s not about to let Kuroo off the hook so easily. “Then what? C’mon, man, you’re freaking me out!”

Kuroo sighs heavily, setting his chopsticks aside. It’s not like he was using them to eat anyway, having only picked at a few pellets of rice and mixed all his breakfast into an unappetizing glob. “It’s not Kenma or Akaashi or even the soulmates thing, okay? It’s everything. People find their soulmate and it changes everything. I hate it.”

“Well… You still got me,” Bokuto promises, and Kuroo smiles back, weak but fond. “You’ll always have me, Kuroo.”

-

If Bokuto consistently targets Kenma for the rest of camp whenever Fukuroudani faces off against Nekoma, then it’s only because Bokuto knows Kenma will avoid blocking his spikes. It’s an easy point, even if it’s a cheap one.

“Bokuto-san, please lay off Kozume-kun. We need to work on strengthening our plays as a team,” Akaashi scolds, but Bokuto’s not convinced Akaashi’s really concerned about the team.

-

“I’m gonna miss you!” Bokuto cries melodramatically. Konoha and some of Nekoma’s players are rolling their eyes at him, but Bokuto doesn’t care. He’s well aware that it looks like Bokuto’s the hero out of a drama who has to say goodbye to his soulmate, but he likes the spotlight and this is for an especially good cause. 

“Dude, you’re at my house every other weekend and we talk every day.” Kuroo barely has the breath to talk, Bokuto’s squeezing him so hard, but he doesn’t make an effort to pry Bokuto off. “Get off! You’re suffocating me!”

“Not yet. Akaashi is still saying bye to Kenma, so I’m protecting you from witnessing their gushy farewells,” Bokuto confesses. Kuroo laughs right into his ear and squeezes him tighter, a wordless thank you.

-

Bokuto still visits Kuroo’s house to play video games and eat his snacks, only now Akaashi tags along too. It used to be that Bokuto and Kenma could go for round after round of Street Fighter without interruption, but lately Kenma dips out after the fifth game to lead Akaashi to his house for private time. (That, Bokuto knows, means making out time.)

As usual, Kenma completely wipes the floor with Bokuto at Street Fighter, and Bokuto yells out his frustration. Loudly. “Daaaa _aaaaamn iiiiii_ ** _iiit!!”_**

Kenma covers his ears as Bokuto begins to throw his losing tantrum, wincing in disgust. “Are you sure he’s not your soulmate? He’s as loud and annoying as you.”

It’s not a compliment, the way Kenma says it, but Bokuto preens as if it were. 

-

Bokuto’s jealousy starts to level out as the weeks go by. It’s weird going from him and Kuroo and Kenma to him and Kuroo and Kenma-and-Akaashi, but Bokuto is happy as long as Akaashi is happy. 

It’s hard though, seeing two people he knew as friends now look at each other with love and devotion in their eyes, stronger than any look they’ve spared Bokuto. Sometimes Kenma leans against Akaashi and Akaashi begins a sentence, “it looks like…”

He never finishes what it looks like, but Kenma will smirk conspiringly as though he had, and the next second they’re both laughing quietly to each other. It’s a secret shared between them, between soulmates. 

Times like that, it’s hard not to want what they have for himself.

-

It’s three in the morning and they both have exams that they need to be studying for, but Bokuto’s brain is fried for the night. He’s supposed to be focusing on math, but only one question remains on his mind. “I get not believing in soulmates, but don’t you want to meet the person who has your mark?”

Kuroo winces at Bokuto from across the table, but Bokuto can’t tell if it’s from sleep deprivation or the comment. “I haven’t gotten to that section in my philosophy notes.”

“It’s not homework, it’s a question.” Bokuto rests his head on the textbook opened in front of him. He has no motivation to study, and this thought on his mind leaves his emotions bare and vulnerable to restlessness and frustration. He’s not really sure what he’s feeling, other than he’s feeling it intensely.

“You’re asking me to do metaphysics,” Kuroo says into his textbook while flipping through his notebooks one-by-one. “It’s somewhere in my notes, the possibility of unperceived existence. It’s the question about whether a tree makes a sound if it falls in the forest and nobody is there to hear it.”

“Kuroo. I’m not asking you about trees or metaphysics,” Bokuto says lowly. He’s tired and grouchy and he hates how Kuroo dances around a straight answer like this. “All I’m asking is what would you do if you found your soulmate?”

He looks up to Kuroo, watches him slouch, exhausted and annoyed. Bokuto’s just about to tell Kuroo to forget it when Kuroo scrunches his jaw into place. “I’d say, ‘hi, I’m Kuroo and I don’t believe in this bullshit, do you?’”

Bokuto laughs, too tired to stop himself. He lets his eyes close, watching the scenario play out in his imagination. Bokuto can perfectly see a cute, petite girl excitedly showing her matching wrist to Kuroo, only for Kuroo to keep walking ahead, more interested in his coffee than the girl who has his mark. “You would.”

“How about you?” Kuroo asks, but it’s too late. Bokuto’s eyelids already feel too heavy, and his lips won’t move even though he’s 100% sure that he’d say, ‘I’m Bokuto and I don’t believe in soulmates either.’

-

They go to the movies to celebrate Kuroo acing his exams and Bokuto barely passing his. The movie doesn’t start for another hour, so they’re walking up and down the aisles of a generic neighborhood store in the meantime, all snorts and offended laughter when they find an aisle lined with knickknacks to help find a soulmate. 

Bokuto throws a bottle of lotion, one that enhances the shine of one’s soulmate tattoo, at Kuroo’s head, while barely dodging the handful of lip balms, which promise to attract your soulmate’s scent, Kuroo launches at him. The lip balms crash into a small tower of boxes, scattering them across the floor. Bokuto kneels down and begins to pick up. They’re a tacky and shiny shade of red, the white and pink letters on the box spelling out, ‘100 yen,’ and, ‘True Love Points North! Navigate To Your Soulmate’s Heart Today!’ in swooping, gaudy letters. 

“What happens if your soulmate isn’t north?” Bokuto jokes, holding up one of the boxes for Kuroo to inspect.

“Bet they just repackaged broken compasses,” Kuroo says. He opens the folds and lets the plastic compass slide into the middle of his palm, watching as the needle wobbles back and forth before settling. Bokuto holds his breath as the pink-tipped needle points in his direction, but Kuroo’s lips purse into a frown. “This one points east. What’d I tell you?”

“Maybe it’s just that one, let’s try another.” Bokuto chooses one of the boxes from the floor and kicks the spares out of the way. The little device easily slides into his hand and begins to wobble like Kuroo’s. Bokuto refuses to swallow, breathe, or talk as the little needle spins back and forth. When it settles, it points west, toward Kuroo. 

“See? Broken.” Kuroo laughs the little toy off, tossing his compass over his shoulder and paying little mind as it makes a clunk into the pile of love trinkets.

“Or maybe our soulmates are really in those directions,” Bokuto tries, even though it sounds a bit ridiculous even to himself. The look Kuroo shoots him is both precarious and spooked, so Bokuto slips his sweaty palms into his pockets with a shrug. “You never know.”

“Doubt it,” Kuroo says, pushing ahead. “C’mon, there’s more junk to look at.”

Bokuto sets his compass next to Kuroo’s on the pile, watching the compasses’ needles spin. Kuroo’s probably right, they’re broken, or why else would they be so cheap? It’s a scam, he’s sure, even though his heart skips a beat when he thinks that maybe the compass could be right.

-

“Oh shit,” Bokuto says out loud, stopping in place. All Kuroo had done was accidentally bump his fingertips against Bokuto’s just enough that their fingers hooked together and split apart, and in two seconds, the biggest realization of Bokuto’s life dawns upon him.

Walking beside him, Kuroo steps forward a few paces before realizing Bokuto’s no longer in stride. He turns around, an eyebrow raised. “What happened?”

When Bokuto looks at Kuroo, he knows the flutter and tingle in his body are telltale signs of a crush. He knows that it’s not normal to feel tight-lipped while tripping on his words, yet more relaxed than he is with anybody else whenever he’s joking around with Kuroo. He knows that it means something to fantasize about taking Kuroo’s wrist into his own hands, pulling back the dirty, white wristband, and petting Bokuto’s mark on Kuroo’s skin. 

A part of him, Bokuto had known for awhile, loves Kuroo. The realization that hits Bokuto is that if he pulled Kuroo’s wristband and there wasn’t even a mark there, Bokuto’s feelings wouldn’t change. He’d still want Kuroo, love Kuroo, and feel as strongly for Kuroo as though they were soulmates.

His throat is dry and scratchy when he speaks. “I just realized something important.”

“Oh? What is it?” 

“It’s a secret!”

“C’mon, tell me!” Kuroo demands, bumping his shoulder against Bokuto. Bokuto shoves back, feeling light with the knowledge that he’s found his soulmate, regardless of if their wrists match or not.

-

Bokuto knows Kuroo thinks themed cafés are stupid, but Bokuto _loves_ them. He’s grateful that Kuroo never puts up a fight whenever Bokuto drags him in the direction of yet another kitschy restaurant, even for their celebratory lunch to welcome their final year as high schoolers. He chooses a vampire café, reasoning that this final year of studies is making him feel dead inside too. 

“Of course you’d pick the lamest restaurant in all of Ginza,” Kuroo complains, but he doesn’t sound mad. If anything, the easy way Kuroo complains and goes along with it gives Bokuto just enough hope to believe that maybe Kuroo feels the same about him too.

“What, don’t you feel at home in this vibe?” Bokuto teases while sliding into his seat. Kuroo snorts but doesn’t disagree. The low lighting and the red colors suit Kuroo perfectly, even if that isn’t the main reason Bokuto chose this restaurant. This being-in-love-with-his-best-friend business is overwhelming lately, so Bokuto forces a different topic, happily sighing with a stretch, “only two more years.”

“Until what?” Kuroo boredly asks while dropping his schoolbag on the floor. 

“Until I can get my tattoo removed!” Bokuto holds his covered wrist over the table and flops it pointedly. “Or covered up. Not sure which I want more.”

It’s a bit bittersweet, but of this, Bokuto is sure: he doesn’t want the mark on his wrist telling him who should be the love of his life. Bokuto’s very pleased with the butterflies in his stomach and knowing that years of spending time and laughing with Kuroo put them there, not a soulmark.

Kuroo blinks at him over the menu, in awe of Bokuto for once. “That’s… That’s actually a really good idea.”

“Yeah?” Bokuto chirps excitedly, hair practically spiking up from the praise. “Wanna come with?”

“Sure. Maybe I’ll get it done too.” Kuroo’s voice is tight with hesitation in such a way Bokuto’s never heard before. It’s almost a shame that before Bokuto gets the chance ask about it, Kuroo starts cackling that ugly hyena laugh that Bokuto likes so much. “Can you believe they have a dessert called Fangtastic Ladyfingers?”

-

“What’s up, Akaashi?” Bokuto asks, draping his arm over his underclassman’s shoulders. 

Akaashi has ten fliers spread in front of him and one nasty frown. “I’m trying to decide.”

Bokuto picks up a flier and frowns. This one has a fancy, old building that looks like it belongs on the cover of a romance movie poster. The tagline says, ‘Explore Rustic France!’ “Are you going on a trip?” 

“I’m trying to decide which schools to apply to,” Akaashi explains. He offers up some pamphlets for schools in America and China as well. “These schools all have programs that accept soulmate couples.”

“Oh…” Looking over the fliers, Bokuto realizes he’s hardly given any thought to where he wants to be next year. “Don’t you still have a year to figure that out?”

“Yes, but if Kenma and I want to go to the same university and they don’t have a program like this, then we have to start preparing our applications now so that both of us will be accepted when the time comes.” Akaashi snatches the fliers back, lining up the edges so that the pages rest against each other neatly. “You should think about your future too, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto spent so much time avoiding the inevitability of a future that he forgot to plan for it.

-

“You know Akaashi’s stressing over universities already?” Bokuto muses out loud, next time he’s hanging out at Kuroo’s. He’s sprawled over Kuroo’s unmade bed, his arm dangling off the side and his knuckles brushing the floor. 

“Yeah, even Kenma’s nervous about it. _Kenma,”_ Kuroo says, distracted. He’s cleaning -- or attempting to, at least. He’s not doing a very good job of it, unless trying on and taking off multiple shirts to see if they fit and then smelling them to see if they’re dirty counts as cleaning.

Bokuto, of course, doesn’t move a finger to help, the view too nice. He kicks Kuroo’s pile of dirty clothes off his bed since they’re in the way or where he wants to sprawl out like a starfish. “Damn, they’re serious!”

“You have _no_ idea. I’ve never seen Kenma stress over something so much, it’s kind of funny.” Kuroo laughs, wadding up a shirt with armpit sweat stains beyond salvation and throwing it at Bokuto’s face. Boktuo squawks and pushes it away with a glare, but it’s hard to keep glaring when Kuroo smiles so gently at him. Especially when he’s shirtless. “Good thing we don’t have to worry about stupid stuff like that.”

“Yeah.” Bokuto knows he’s smiling goofily, but he can’t care, since Kuroo’s smiling back at him in exactly the same way. “Hey, while we’re on the topic, where are you applying?”

-

“That’s it, today you’re on cleaning duty, Bokuto-kun,” Bokuto’s teacher snaps from the front of the classroom. 

Bokuto’s shoulders stiffen from being caught, sure he’d angled his textbook to hide his phone well enough. Even so, he happily accepts his punishment. He’d do it again if it meant seeing Kuroo’s text screaming about his admission to Todai. 

Bokuto’s proud of Kuroo’s achievement, and besides that, Bokuto already has offers to Chuudai, Nittaidai, and Todai. Kuroo’s news just makes his decision a little bit easier.

-

Bokuto chalked it up to confused best friend feelings, but the urge to hold Kuroo’s hand for no reason other than he can or the urge to snuggle up to Kuroo’s chest and take a nap there doesn’t go away. It wasn’t until that full-blown epiphany that he realized just how deep his feelings for his best friend ran. Ever since then, he can’t stop thinking about it, even though he knows this could ruin their friendship, especially now that they have plans to go to the same university and room together in a few months. 

He also knows he’ll regret it even more if he doesn’t give them a chance.

That’s why this time Bokuto doesn’t immediately roll off Kuroo’s waist when he wrestles him back-down on his bedroom floor, tentatively resting the weight of his palms on Kuroo’s shoulders. Bokuto’s never been shy about contact and Kuroo’s just as affectionate, but even this toes the lines of boys being boys.

“Bokuto?” Kuroo asks a bit stiffly, tilting his head so that his bedhead bangs fall to the side.

Bokuto holds his breath. His chest feels tight and his arms are suddenly stiff, even though his mind is made up. “Remember when you said you didn’t like your tattoo telling you who to be with?”

He starts to trail a fingertip up and down Kuroo’s neck, his thumbs rubbing circles into Kuroo’s skin beneath the dip of Kuroo’s scooped-neck shirt. The touches are too intimate to mistake for friendship, but gentle enough that Kuroo could pull away if he wanted to. 

He doesn’t. “Yeah. Why?” 

“Because… I feel the same,” Bokuto confesses, quiet but firm. “And I know this is real because I chose it. I want this. I want us.”

Kuroo’s pupils expand until there’s only a thin rim of gold. His hands circle around Bokuto’s wrists and hold them firmly. Kuroo’s chest heaves and drops with every breath, and despite the cool expression he wears, his heart thumps wildly beneath Bokuto’s palm. “I want us too.”

-

The next time they go out, Bokuto doesn’t hesitate to grab Kuroo’s hand and swing it between their bodies. “So…boyfriend?”

Kuroo doesn’t seem quite at ease with the public display of affection, but he doesn’t try to push Bokuto away either. His smile is sheepish and he’s trying to do his Cool Guy thing of shrugging, but Bokuto sees that blush high on his cheekbones. “Or soulmate. You know, whatever.”

“We don’t know if we’re soulmates,” Bokuto points out, doing nothing to mask the disapproval in his voice.

Kuroo smiles an enigmatic smile, which Bokuto loves, even though it’s a little bit crooked. “I don’t need to.”

-

He tries to keep his cool when he’s with Kuroo, but the truth is that Bokuto is insecure about it. He googles, ‘dating not soulmates,’ and, ‘make relationship work no soulmates,’ but he doesn’t get any closer to settling his doubts.

‘Not feeling the special spark but still in love?’ one article asks. Bokuto scrolls past it; he _does_ feel that spark, and Bokuto’s not sure anybody who doesn’t is really in love. 

The next page Bokuto finds rejects the supremacy of soulmates as a relationship, but turns out to be a romance anarchist site that rejects the idea of love’s very existence. The next one isn’t what he’s looking for either, the bold headline of, ‘Don’t Nettle, Settle!’ insulting Bokuto. He isn’t _settling_ for anything, least of all Kuroo.

Another advice column suggests a few steps for getting through a relationship without somebody who isn’t your soulmate. The first step is: ‘Accept that your relationship will never come with all the certainty of being with your soulmate.’ 

Just reading over the words makes Bokuto grind his teeth, which doesn’t help the oncoming throb of anger pulsing in his brain. He doesn’t bother clicking out of the tab, instantly slamming his laptop shut and throwing it aside on his bed. Who were these people to judge that his and Kuroo’s relationship was any less valid just because their wrists might not match?

-

It’s stupid, Bokuto thinks, how he can spend so much time worrying about little drips of ink all day and then the moment he sees Kuroo, it all fades away. Kuroo slides his hand in Bokuto’s, Bokuto leans his head against Kuroo’s shoulder, and they joke in soft voices. There’s no awkward phase when a, ‘bro,’ becomes, ‘babe,’ or when brushing the backs of their knuckles against each other’s faces becomes a common gesture shared between them. Everything feels so right, Bokuto can’t help but wonder if this is what it feels like when soulmates meet for the very first time.

-

There’s still one thing they haven’t done. It begins with K and ends with I-S-S-I-N-G. 

They’ve leaned in a few times, cupped each other’s jaws, even angled their faces the right way, but it never comes. Bokuto’s thinking maybe Kuroo is waiting for the perfect moment, since that’s exactly what he’s doing too. 

There are all kinds of cliches and rules when it comes to a first kiss. From kissing in the rain to running to the airport to stop his soulmate from boarding that plane, Bokuto knows every first kiss should be a dramatic, memorable occasion. It shouldn’t be a conscious thing, something decided upon and scheduled, something shared in his childhood bedroom.

They aren’t on a ferris wheel and Kuroo hasn’t just won Bokuto an oversized stuffed animal. There’s no running and jumping into his soulmate’s arms. There’s just Kuroo tucking a stray piece of hair behind Bokuto’s ear, his warm, steady breaths ghosting over Bokuto’s lips. Bokuto’s arms hug Kuroo loosely around the waist, tight enough to keep them pressed together chest-to-chest. Kuroo laughs awkwardly first, and Bokuto laughs back because he can feel their chests racing when they’re this close to each other.

“Shh, my mom will hear,” Bokuto reminds. Until they have a place of their own, they have to sneak around like this, but Bokuto’s not about to wait until they have an apartment of their own to kiss his boyfriend. That’s also how he knows this isn’t some silly story written about soulmates finding each other, since his mom would be out so they could be as loud as they want, if that was the case.

Kuroo hums that mischievous little hum that makes Bokuto’s heart feel like it’s about to burst, and then he’s pressing his face against Bokuto’s neck. The brush of his nose and lips and hot breath make Bokuto squirm and laugh, booming and full-bellied. 

“Shh,” Kuroo whispers against his ear, “your mom will hear.”

“Dumbass!” Bokuto shoves at Kuroo, but Kuroo just grabs him by the hip, pulling them together again. 

They’re a breath apart again, and Bokuto feels like melting chocolate because one of Kuroo’s hands is thumbing invisible shapes on his hip and the other cupping is his jaw. Kuroo’s looking at him like the heroes always look at their soulmates in those sappy movies Bokuto hates, but Bokuto can’t bring himself to hate that look when Kuroo’s the one wearing it.

“I’m gonna kiss you know,” Kuroo says in the anticlimactic, anti-soulmate way of his.

Bokuto nuzzles his cheek into Kuroo’s palm and nods, just enough that Kuroo’s the only one that can tell. “Okay.”

Kuroo closes his eyes, so Bokuto figures he should too. He braces himself for the world-changing, life-shattering kiss-to-end-all-kisses, but it never comes. Instead he only feels chapped lips moving against his. There’s a little bit of wetness from Kuroo’s tongue, though it’s nothing indecent. It’s soft sounds of their lips pressing against each other and soft bubbles of laughter because it feels funny. It’s kissing the smile right off Kuroo’s face. 

This kiss, Bokuto thinks, is better than any romantic soulmate cliche. This kiss, he knows, is perfect.

-

The first time Bokuto proposes a double date, Kenma squints and glares directly at Kuroo. “I told you he was your soulmate.”

-

‘Is my bf my soulmate? how to tell,’ Bokuto types into Google. The top three results say, ‘compare your wrists,’ as if he didn’t know that already, but the fourth one has some sage advice: ‘if you listen to the same music, watch the same movies, and enjoy hanging out, then congratulations, you’re probably soulmates!’ Bokuto smiles and reads the rest of that article, even if it’s written for young girls and posted on Teen Vogue Japan.

-

Kuroo isn’t one for typical romance, but this Valentine’s Day he gives Bokuto a kiss on the cheek and shoves a small gift into his hand. “Try it on.”

“For real? You’re the one who always says this is junk,” Bokuto laughs, inspecting the small tube of soulmate-attracting lip balm. It’s like the one they found in the store that one time, nearly a year ago, only this lip balm looks way more expensive. The sticker logo even has reflective foil and art of a pink heart as the O and the dotted I in the, ‘Lovely Lips,’ branding.

“Eh, maybe it’ll work. Give it a try.” Kuroo shrugs, and when it’s obvious that Bokuto’s not planning on putting it on, he steals it and opens the cap. “C’mon, pucker up those pouty lips for me.”

“Ku _roo!”_ Bokuto squeals. He laughs way too hard and too much for Kuroo to smear the balm on properly, but Bokuto tries to hold his lips as if he’s about to kiss Kuroo until it becomes absolutely impossible. “Dude, stooooop.”

“Ooh, I can’t stop myself,” Kuroo begins to tease, kissing Bokuto over and over on his newly softened lips, “this smell, it calls to me!”

“Dummy,” Bokuto finally says, when he’s pressed against Kuroo’s cheek and Kuroo’s arms are squeezing the air out of him. He clings to Kuroo and kisses his cheek. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Kuroo says back. It’s reassuring to hear, but it’s nothing compared to how loved Bokuto feels with Kuroo stroking the small of his back and rocking them side-to-side.

-

Bokuto decides that the day his and Kuroo’s schedules line up without practice is going to be the day they make love for the first time. He texts Kuroo the address for a love hotel before school starts and after school he practically runs to the hotel to pick up their key. Since the hotel is closer to Fukuroudani than Nekoma, it leaves plenty of time for Bokuto to kick off his clothes, take a shower, and line up the goodies they bought together on the nightstand. 

“Condoms, lube, toys,” Bokuto counts off on his hands, grinning when everything is in place.

He still has some extra time to figure out which pose will instantly seduce Kuroo the second he steps in the room, which is when Bokuto catches sight of his wristband. He’d worn the thing so much he forgot it existed sometimes, which gives Bokuto an idea. He peels off his wristband and sets it on the nightstand, now feeling truly prepared and completely bare in body and soul for Kuroo.

Bokuto’s stomach flips pleasantly as he waits, posed and already hard at the thought of what they’re going to, and he doesn’t have to wait long before the doorknob twists. Bokuto feels his heart jump into his mouth at the sight of Kuroo, panting, sweaty, and red in his cheeks as though he also ran from the station, and notes with some satisfaction that Kuroo’s half-hard too. 

But all that, none of that is as sweet as the way Kuroo’s eyes begin to drag down Bokuto’s body. Bokuto’s muscles flex just enough to let Kuroo know he knows Kuroo’s watching -- and that he likes it. Kuroo’s eyes sink lower and lower, down to where Bokuto’s hip leans against his wrist, when Kuroo yelps like he was burnt, covering his eyes with his hands and turning on his heel as soon as he glimpses Bokuto’s groin. 

“Kuroo--?”

Bokuto watches Kuroo bend into the wall, his back heaving with every breath. “Cover it up.”

“For real?” Bokuto complains, offended. He may not have messed around with another cock before, but he knows his is nice from watching porn. He even thought it might be the, ‘cute,’ type. “I thought you knew I was gonna be naked! You called it a booty call!”

“Shut up, we’re still gonna fuck--”

“Make love,” Bokuto corrects.

“Yes, whatever!” Kuroo shouts, still facing the wall. “I’m talking about your mark! I almost saw it.”

Bokuto looks down at his wrist. Next to his hip, the edges are barely seeable from the door. He cradles his wrist in his other hand, looking down at it. “Oh… But we’re…” 

Kuroo breathes in heavily and mutters something into the wall. Bokuto only catches the very end, what he’s meant to hear. “We agreed not to look at each other’s.”

‘Ever?’ Bokuto wants to ask, but that answer would be too painful. He settles for, “even now?” 

“Especially now.” Kuroo’s tone settles and Bokuto watches the muscles in Kuroo’s back begin to relax beneath his clothes. “Are you still going to be in the mood if they don’t match?”

“Urk!” Bokuto looks away, unwilling to even entertain the idea. “But they _will_ match.” 

_“Bokuto.”_

Against his will, a little flash of the impossible future pops in his mind. He sees himself crying and Kuroo rubbing his back, which is so not how he wants this afternoon to go. Bokuto has plans for Kuroo to rub other places on his body, places Kuroo’s never rubbed before. “I guess not…”

“Then cover it up.” Kuroo twists around the wall, beginning to pet it in ways Bokuto wishes Kuroo would stop petting the wall and starting petting him. “If you cover up, I’ll do that thing you like with my mouth. Except this time we can do it without a condom.”

Bokuto hesitates for a second, but Kuroo’s right. If they aren’t soulmates, he doesn’t want to find out right now. That, and he _really_ wants a proper blowjob. He grabs his wristband off the nightstand and slips it back on. It feels more comfortable there anyway. “It’s covered.”

Kuroo’s smirking when he turns around, and his stride toward Bokuto is as fluid and silky as water. He sinks onto his knees, pushes Bokuto’s knees apart, and starts to lean between Bokuto’s thighs. Bokuto’s soulmate mark becomes the last thing on his mind when Kuroo begins to do _that_ thing with his mouth. (It does feel better without a condom.) 

-

It’s not just sex or that they’re comfortable enough to burp or complain about their athlete’s foot in front of each other. Bokuto likes the way Kuroo’s lips linger when he kisses Bokuto’s hairline and says, ‘you’re my world,’ and the way Kuroo doesn’t even put up a fight when Bokuto sees a tacky decoration and says, ‘I want this for the apartment,’ but that’s not it either. It’s not even the way Kuroo’s parents immediately welcome Bokuto as their own child, the way Bokuto’s mom says in her tight-lipped way, ‘as long as you’re happy,’ even though Bokuto can tell she’s worried, or the way Bokuto’s dad and his new girlfriend invite them over for summer vacation. It’s the way they’ve become folded in each other’s futures without planning it, the way they fit together perfectly on the secondhand couch Kuroo’s uncle gave them. Bokuto doesn’t need a spot on his wrist to tell him that fate made them perfect for each other.

-

They decide to move into the apartment two weeks before their first semester starts. Kuroo has to turn in some last minute paperwork for the course he wants to enroll in, so Bokuto starts to unpack the truck by himself. Bokuto will wait to move the furniture, but it’s not like they have a lot: a shelf of stupid manga that Bokuto look at (not quite read) when he’s feeling down, a ratty stuffed cat Kuroo’s had since he was a baby, a ten-pack of soulmate-finding lip balm. 

Bokuto’s careful in carrying their box of memories upstairs when the neighbor’s door creaks a sliver. A girl no older than himself peeks her nose out shyly, giving him a once over. “Moving in for school?”

She doesn’t look threatening, but Bokuto still cradles the box close to his chest. “Mhmm. Todai recruited me for volleyball. Are you a student too?”

“Yes, I start in a few weeks. Maybe we can study together sometime?” She smiles and Bokuto returns it, if only not to be rude. He tries to hide his wrist with the box, but she’s already seen his wristband. “So… Moving in with your soulmate?”

It takes everything not to square his jaw at the dreaded question. “I don’t have one.”

“Oh, I see,” she says, so hopefully that Bokuto feels a little bad that he could not be less interested in her. She brushes her fingers through her long, black hair in such a way that it shows off her wrist; not like it matters since it doesn’t match Bokuto’s anyway. “Need any help bringing anything up?”

“No, my boyfriend’s going to help me as soon as he gets back, but thanks.” He tries to smile, but it’s hard, especially when the girl’s face promptly drops into a frown.

“I thought you said you didn’t have a soulmate,” she says accusingly.

This is the part Bokuto hates. He loves Kuroo and will gladly go this kind of mishap as many times as he has to, but it’s a pain in the neck explaining his and Kuroo’s relationship, especially to strangers. “I don’t.”

“Well good luck with the move,” his neighbor says, but it doesn’t sound sincere at all and she slams the door behind her.

-

As they finish setting up their apartment, they don’t even bother with arranging a second bedroom. They’d already decided to share the biggest bedroom while they were shopping around for prospective first homes, knowing that they’d turn the spare into an office and guest room. Bokuto’s keepsakes get wedged between shelves of Kuroo’s books, and they forget whose socks belong to who, or even which socks were originally their own. By the second month, some of the spam mail comes addressed to, “Kuroo Koutarou,” “Bokuto Tetsurou,” or “Kuroo-Bokuto,” and the combinations feel as right as the ink on Bokuto’s wrist.

-

Bokuto has to admit, accepting the offer at Todai is the best thing he’s ever done in his life. The libraries are actually really cool, Bokuto loves boasting that he goes to _Todai_ and seeing the shock and awe in his friends’ faces, and, best of all, he gets to spend every day with Kuroo. Kuroo’s nights are long with books split open and Bokuto adds two more daily jogs into his schedule just to stop himself from losing it, but they’re in it together. 

There’s one more perk that comes with going to Todai, and it’s the ability to claim any empty seat at a remotely familiar face’s table in the Starbucks boarding campus. Kuroo claims two seats in the packed coffeeshop while Bokuto grabs their orders. He doesn’t have to ask what Kuroo drinks; he’s known for years that Kuroo likes his coffee with so much cream and sugar in it that it looks almost as light as the white chocolate mochas Bokuto’s so fond of.

Kuroo pats the empty seat next to him as Bokuto walks in on the gossip. He slides Kuroo his drink just as one of the girls gushes, “I heard that Nakagawa and Kiritani broke up!”

The table collectively gasps except for Kuroo and Bokuto, mostly because they don’t know who Nakagawa _or_ Kiritani are. “No way! They’re soulmates, aren’t they?”

“They got together because they found out their marks match but they’ve hated each other since they day they met!” the same girl goes on, painting an elaborate picture of the soulmate romance doomed to tragedy.

Bokuto sips his hot chocolate as the rumor mill continues to pour out. He knows it’s wrong and that he should feel bad for these strangers, but he can’t help a little smile, feeling confident and happy in a relationship that doesn’t even factor in whether or not they’re soulmates. “Maybe they’re not really soulmates?”

“Their marks match,” everybody else at the table, including Kuroo, reminds him.

The awkwardness lasts only a moment before one of the girls moves the conversation along, as though Bokuto hadn’t said anything at all. “Okay, but have you seen Ohata and Wakashima?” 

“Oooh,” the table coos agreeably. Bokuto starts chewing on his straw.

“They’re the ones that got together last week, right?” one of the only guys at the table asks. Everybody nods, and he gets an excited expression on his face. “They’re _so_ perfect for each other. I could tell they were soulmates just by looking at them.” 

“I saw them yesterday in the park,” the girl from before butts in. “They were the sweetest things, holding hands. You can tell it’s that forever kind of love.”

If just holding hands is a sign of being soulmates, then he and Kuroo are the deities of romance and everlasting love. It shouldn’t bother him, but it does, the way soulmates’ relationships are automatically accepted. It’s petty and he can’t do anything about it, but Bokuto thinks it’s unfair how relationships are decided on the marks of their wrists instead of the time spent building a relationship, really getting to know a person and falling in love with who they are, finding the little quirks that make their relationship special. So he knows he sounds bitter when he points out, “isn’t it kind of early to tell? They just met.”

The awkwardness returns with a vengeance, silence coating the table like the disgusting layer of food that cakes onto their dishes and refuses to scrub off whenever Kuroo forgets to rinse them after a meal. Bokuto looks at everybody’s disbelieving face one-by-one, only finding support in Kuroo’s. 

“Seriously? Are we the only ones who think this is ridiculous?” Bokuto speaks for himself and Kuroo without even thinking about it, but Kuroo laces his arm over Bokuto, a gesture of solidarity. “Soulmates turn out to be just friends sometimes. Or y’know, my parents are soulmates and they divorced.”

“That’s a cruel thing to bring up,” one of the girls says. 

“Yeah, you shouldn’t wish those things on Ohata and Wakashima.”

“It’s uncalled for,” they rebuke Bokuto, “especially because you and Kuroo aren’t even soulmates.”

Bokuto sees red flash before his eyes, but Kuroo’s the one slamming his palm on the table, so loud that it captures the attention of some customers at other tables. Kuroo’s voice is anything but loud, though. It’s smooth and light, a threatening tone he masks in friendliness. “We’re very proud and secure in our relationship, so I don’t appreciate what you’re suggesting. It would be pretty bad if word got out that you’re a lessphobe.”

Soulmateless. Less. Lessphobe. Bokuto hates these words. The fact that there’s a need for them. Their existence. What he and Kuroo share isn’t less.

“I-I’m not a lessphobe! I just--”

“Ah. My bad, I could only assume from what you said just now. Might wanna watch your words a bit more carefully from now on or somebody might get the wrong idea,” Kuroo suggests, casually taking a sip of his drink as though he hadn’t just threatened one from their new social circle.

Awkwardness doesn’t even have time to settle, the conversation immediately flowing into a different, safer direction. Bokuto knows it’s because they don’t want to think about the hurt their words have for people who love differently, don’t want to challenge their worldviews.

He’s annoyed.

No, he’s angry.

Rather, he’s furious.

The table chatter drowns out in his ears and the only thing keeping Bokuto from storming out of the Starbucks is his inability to move. 

Bokuto’s used to his ideas being dismissed, but this is something completely different. He takes out his rage on his straw, not even bothering to drink it. The rest of the table carries on, but Kuroo’s watching him carefully. He slides a palm over Bokuto’s thigh and squeezes affectionately. By the way Kuroo tilts his head to the side, Bokuto knows it to be a silent, ‘wanna leave?’

Bokuto shakes his head; he’s fine, really. The white noise is beginning to fade and he can start to pick out the individual voices again. 

‘If you’re sure,’ Kuroo seems to say through a nod, but Bokuto knows Kuroo’s there for him if Bokuto needs him. One pull on Kuroo’s sleeve and Kuroo will make up a stupid excuse for why they need to leave and he won’t even question Bokuto’s reasons. 

It won’t be necessary. All it takes lately to settle his smaller, everyday insecurities is Kuroo smiling at him, like the sly grin on his face right now. His heart settles into a steady, constant rhythm when Kuroo goofily wiggles his eyebrows, just to pull a smile out of Bokuto, so Bokuto’s confident that they’re much better off than any of the couples the table’s gossiping about now, soulmates or not.

-

The thing is, that conversation at Starbucks isn’t rare. It’s on billboards, hinted in advertisements for soulmate-finding services. It sits between the letters of the law, when benefits are only extended to soulmate couples. It’s the first question on a stranger’s lips, even only knowing each other for five seconds: “Isn’t it weird being in a relationship when your soulmate could be out there?” 

Boktuo’s grateful for Kuroo, who answers with enough ferocity for the both of them, since Bokuto can barely see straight let alone talk, he gets so mad, whenever that question is asked. “Why would it be?”

“Because you’re missing out on your soulmate!” maybe Ayumi, or Takumi, or Hatsumi will say. Over the years, the names have blurred together.

It doesn’t matter who asks, Kuroo always has the same defensive answer: “Okay. And?”

“So you’re missing out on the best relationship in your life!” they say. Sometimes they follow it up with, “doesn’t it feel wrong knowing that you’re not soulmates?” or, “how do you deal with knowing that it’s not going to work?”

Bokuto and Kuroo both make a point of hooking their arms around each other’s by the elbow whenever that happens, but they never answer. Not directly, in any case. 

“Now that’s a really interesting question,” Kuroo usually says, if he bothers to grace them with a response, “but I think a better question is: why does our relationship scare you so much?”

-

Sometimes on double dates with Akaashi and Kenma, Bokuto catches glimpses of their tattoos peeking through their sleeves. When they hold hands, their wrists push against each other so that it looks like their tattoos are one.. 

Times like this, Bokuto instinctively reaches for Kuroo’s hand and squeezes it for assurance. “Hey, Kuroo?”

“Hm?” 

Something in Kuroo’s bored tone tells him that he hasn’t hasn’t noticed. Bokuto watches the easy way Akaashi smiles and Bokuto forces down the bitter feeling in his chest. He doesn’t want to envy Akaashi’s happiness, and Kuroo would call him stupid for wanting to believe in soulmate tattoos. They’ve been dating for nearly a year, why should it matter now? “Nevermind. It’s nothing.”

-

“No, don’t,” Kuroo says, tugging his wristband back on when Bokuto tries pulling it off. It’s the only piece of clothing keeping their bodies from being connected skin on skin, but Bokuto lets it go. It’s too dark to see Kuroo’s tattoo anyway.

-

It was only a matter of time before Bokuto cracked beneath the pressure. He’s never been good at handling his emotions or keeping secrets, and this one has festered for nearly four years. Bokuto could keep it in check when they were just friends because he wasn’t entitled to Kuroo’s soulmate mark, but he can’t stand not knowing now that they’ve been together for over a year. It’s time.

Curled up on the couch for some late-night TV now that they’re brains are stuffed with equations and kanji they’ll never use outside of classes, Bokuto slips a hand down Kuroo’s bicep and snakes it toward his wristband. Kuroo elbows him as if it’s reflex when Bokuto’s finger hooks into the white sweatband.

“Stop that,” Kuroo says, batting Bokuto’s hand away before he can tug it down. 

But Bokuto’s determined and he latches onto Kuroo’s wrist like a child that refuses to release a toy in the store. He’d been spooning Kuroo, which allows him hook a leg over Kuroo’s and hold him in place, already having anticipated that Kuroo would try to make a move for it the second Bokuto touched his wristband. “Why not?” 

Kuroo squirms, but Bokuto’s clamped around him as hard as Bokuto usually holds Kuroo’s hand. He feels Kuroo’s body begin to tense, and Kuroo’s expression is one he uses to get a rise out of others, one he’s never used on Bokuto. “I should have known you were up to something. You never want to be the big spoon.”

“Don’t avoid me,” Bokuto says, squeezing Kuroo. He’s rarely serious, but he’s not going to let Kuroo joke his way out of this. “Don’t you want to know, now that we’re together?”

Kuroo glares over his shoulder, but Bokuto matches it. _“Do you?”_

“I’m asking, aren’t I?” 

Kuroo struggles for a few more seconds before Bokuto seems to remember himself. Kuroo doesn’t ever tell him when he’s squeezing too hard, always too proud, but Bokuto doesn’t want to hurt him. He releases Kuroo, who cradles his wrist passive aggressively and pointedly; Bokuto will feel guilty later and genuinely worry about him, but he sees it for the little mind game it is. 

For now Bokuto feels cold and sore without Kuroo pressed against him. Bokuto already feels like shit, but it’s the look of distrust and betrayal etched on Kuroo’s face that sends a chill down Bokuto’s spine. They both sit up to face each other, at a standstill of difference. 

After a tense minute of breathing together, Kuroo exhales angrily. “What’s the point if it’s just going to hurt you when you see our marks don’t match?”

There it is, there’s the fear. Bokuto loves Kuroo with all his heart, but it’s this pessimism that he can’t deal with sometimes. Kuroo calls it being realistic, Bokuto calls it being defeatist. “You don’t know that they won’t! We don’t know anything until we see them.”

“Fine, I don’t want to know. I don’t ever want to know! There, are you happy now?” Kuroo says bluntly. It’s sharp and stings Bokuto’s heart as though his words were a physical force, worse than any of the words strangers have used to doubt their relationship. 

Bokuto winces and Kuroo inhales quickly, both of them acknowledging the hurt and instant regret. Once the jagged edge stops dragging through the mundane self-delusions that make their relationship work, it leaves behind only their fragile insecurities. 

“Isn’t what we have enough? Can’t we be enough?” Kuroo reaches for his hand, but Bokuto smacks it away.

“…You’re a coward,” Bokuto whispers, feeling the heat manifest in his head along with hot tears and a clenched throat. His fists are shaking, beyond his control. “How can you ask if we’re enough when you won’t even give us a chance?”

“You know what? No. I’m not doing this.” Kuroo claps his hands together and gets up, grabbing only his coat, wallet, and keys. “I don’t want to argue about this. I’m going home for the night. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

-

That night Bokuto curls up in a bed that’s too big and too cold for just him. It’s lonely and he can’t sleep without Kuroo here to wrap around. Bokuto no longer believes in monsters under the bed or wakes up screaming from his nightmares, but Kuroo’s body in his bed has always made him feel as safe and protected as his childhood teddy bear. Without Kuroo, it’s like his body forgot how to sleep when he’s alone. Bokuto wanted to believe that those were signs that they were soulmates, but maybe he’s wrong. Kuroo can’t be his soulmate because Kuroo wouldn’t leave him hurting like this if he was.

-

At four in the morning, Bokuto wakes up from the worst night of sleep he’s had in years. He couldn’t have been asleep longer than three hours, and it feels like it. He blames being tired on why he isn’t mad about Kuroo kicking off his shoes and slipping into his side of the bed.

“You’re suppose’ t’ be home,” Bokuto tiredly whines. But he instinctively rolls over and buries his face in Kuroo’s neck, reaching out for hands that are already searching for his “N’ I’m still mad at you.”

“Been up since since two n’ couldn’ fall asleep in my own bed,” Kuroo mumbles, “so be mad at me after I sleep a lil’.”

“‘Kay,” Bokuto agrees, only because Kuroo’s body is warm and inviting and because Bokuto is already dozing off no sooner than cuddled against Kuroo’s side.

-

The next time Bokuto wakes up again, it’s two hours later than he usually sleeps and Kuroo’s already out of bed. 

Clearly, it’s opposite day, because that’s the only explanation Bokuto has for why they’re fighting or why Kuroo’s sitting at their teeny tiny dining table already, bags under his eyes and Bokuto’s favorite greasy breakfast foods spread out on the table. There’s hot cakes and a hashbrown from McDonald’s, a fish and egg breakfast meal from Sukiya, and a Starbucks white chocolate mocha lined to the plastic rim with whipped cream, drizzled chocolate, and chocolate chips. 

Bokuto takes a seat across from him, not even asking before claiming the hot chocolate with a loud slurp. Kuroo has a cup of his own that he’s slowly nursing, looking like he just came back from fighting a war.

“This is a good start to an apology,” Bokuto admits a bit tiredly, both hands warming around his cup.

“Except neither of us are sorry,” Kuroo points out. Bokuto hums in agreement, and Kuroo only watches as Bokuto begins to pick at the breakfast. “We really have to figure this out.”

Bokuto knows he’s clenching his jaw hard enough that it’ll show the ugly, frowning dimples that Kuroo likes to laugh at and poke, but he can’t control his face as much as he’d like to right now. Even if last night was one of the worst nights of his life, it at least solidified his feelings. “I want to know. Even if it’s…not what I want. It has nothing to do with feeling like our relationship is better if we’re soulmates, I just want to know.”

He waits a long while for Kuroo’s response, but he doesn’t push Kuroo. As often as people call him an idiot, Bokuto has always been quick to decide his feelings once he realized them; Kuroo is the opposite. Kuroo willfully blocks out his feelings for as long as he can -- and then some. Bokuto watches Kuroo steel his emotions, even as he sees the vulnerability crack through his impassive mask.

“I’m scared,” Kuroo eventually confesses.

Bokuto slowly drinks his hot chocolate as the weight of Kuroo’s fear sinks in. All he wants to do right now is pull out the disposable chopsticks and start poking at breakfast, but even he knows it would be inappropriate. It’s just that his hands feel restless and idle, and he’s beginning to get nervous without something to move or play with in his hands, a bad habit he picked up from Akaashi. “You’ve always said they don’t matter.”

“But they _do_. That’s what I’m saying. Once you know, it changes things. And I… I don’t want us to change.” By the way Kuroo’s voice sharpens at the edge, Bokuto knows just admitting this is hurting Kuroo. This has always been and always would be a sore spot between them. They both agreed that the idea of soulmates was stupid, but Bokuto wanted to cling to it while Kuroo would dispose it in a heartbeat. Not even Kuroo, try as he might to escape it, could elude the pressure and enormity of a soulmark’s significance.

Still, Bokuto’s expected Kuroo to say the obvious. He figured as much, and the answer is simple. “We always tell everybody that it doesn’t matter to us that we’re not soulmates. So shouldn’t we see for ourselves if that’s the case?”

The part Bokuto’s scared of comes immediately next, but he’s prepared for it too: “And if we’re not?” 

“It’s just a mark, Kuroo. It doesn’t dictate who we fall in love with,” Bokuto shoots back. Kuroo watches him with a slacked jaw, and even Bokuto’s pretty proud of himself for scheming this far. Usually it’s Kuroo with all the plans, but when it’s simple like this, Bokuto’s unbeatable. He finally breaks the chopsticks out of their plastic wrapping and snaps them in half, already prodding at the fish in victory. “Either way, it means nothing. Your mom’s soulmate is her best friend and my parents are divorced. And if we are soulmates, then it still means nothing because our marks didn’t put in the work of the past four years. _We_ did that.”

He gives Kuroo all the time he needs to process, even feeds him a mouthful of rice, before he sees Kuroo smile again. 

“I can’t believe you used, ‘dictate,’ in a sentence properly,” eventually Kuroo says.

It takes Bokuto a second to consider. Had he even said that word? His memory kicks in and then he’s grabbing his head in as much shock as Kuroo’s tone. “Aah!! I did, didn’t I?”

The both start laughing, and Bokuto’s relieved he didn’t have anything in his mouth or he would have spit it out. He can see the change in Kuroo too, the way he props an elbow on the table and leans his cheek onto a palm, all lazy and fond grins at Bokuto like he’s done since they day they met.

In a matter of seconds, they’re both batting their lashes at each other like they’re back in first year, Bokuto blushing and Kuroo playing with the tips of his fingers over the table. Bokuto reaches out, covers their hands, and holds them together, tight lipped but smiling. Kuroo holds his grin for a moment, but it slips not long after. He slides his fingers in the gaps between Bokuto’s fingers though, locking them there.

“Bokuto,” Kuroo says seriously, “I need time. To figure out how to do this.”

“I’ll wait,” Bokuto assures, a bit giddily. He holds his breath, adding, “not forever!” But the way Kuroo squeezes his hand back tells Bokuto that Kuroo understood him the first time. They know how each other works, and that’s how Bokuto knows they’ll get through this.

“Don’t worry, the only forever I need is with you.”

-

Bokuto’s grinning, eyes closed, and catching his breath from his first orgasm of Week Three Of Make-up Sex (Kuroo says it’s not a thing and at that point it’s just regular sex, but Bokuto knows better) when Kuroo proposes, “let’s get matching cover ups for our soulmarks.” 

If Bokuto’s heart hadn’t already been racing, that comment would have certainly done the trick. He looks up and starts blinking as rapidly and widely as an owl. “For real?”

“We’re in it forever, right?” Kuroo asks, scooping Bokuto into his bare arms. Bokuto doesn’t hesitate to pepper a handful of excited kisses on Kuroo’s cheeks and nose, so excited that he accidentally knocks their teeth together when he finally tries to kiss Kuroo on the lips. “So let’s do it. And…that will be when we see each other’s marks for the first time. If they match, then they match, and if they don’t, then we’ll make them match.”

“Yes!” Bokuto breathes over Kuroo’s lips before planting a chaste kiss there. He clings to Kuroo with all strength and warmth in his body until it’s impossible to cling any harder. “I definitely wanna do that with you! I wanna match!”

“Sap,” Kuroo teases, pushing Bokuto’s back into the mattress and moving him into place for a proper kiss. 

Bokuto doesn’t resist Kuroo running his warm hands up and down his chest, doesn’t resist the hot kisses and little bite marks he leaves on Bokuto’s neck. Bokuto laughs and bumps his knee into Kuroo’s ribs playfully. “If I’m sap, what does that make you? You’re the one who brought it up!”

Kuroo sighs in that exaggerated you-caught-me way, pushing off Bokuto just enough to bump their noses together. “Yeah, well. Maybe I like the idea of making you my soulmate.”

-

It’s difficult designing a tattoo around Kuroo’s soulmate’s mark when Bokuto has absolutely no idea what it looks like, but they make it work. They agree on a compass design, since Bokuto says that time in the store was the first time he believed Kuroo is his soulmate and Kuroo reluctantly agrees, saying that his mark has a cute line of dots that will work perfectly into the design. 

Bokuto hopes that Kuroo’s mark has the same line of dots as Bokuto’s, which trace out the line of an owl’s tail, but Kuroo won’t give him any more details. They sketch the design together, working around the ink they already know they have, and when it’s complete, Kuroo groans and says, “fine.”

“You don’t like it?” Bokuto asks a bit unsure, though he’s trying to prepare himself to expect the unexpected.

“I love it,” Kuroo says dryly, sketching a few more heart shaped ink blots around the needle pointing north. “If I’m going to get a ridiculous soulmate mark tattooed on my body, then it might as well be something like this.” 

-

Even resolved to make their tattoos match, they agree not to show each other their marks until the day they get them covered up. Bokuto feels a longing every time he catches a glimpse of Kuroo’s white wristband, suddenly hyper aware of it at all times. He pouts in place, reminding himself only 20 more days until he sees what’s beneath the sweatband. 

-

Bokuto is older by 58 days, so they schedule the appointe for first thing in the morning on Kuroo’s 20th birthday. Bokuto holds his breath as Kuroo holds the door open. They walk into the tattoo parlor hand-in-hand, Kuroo replying to the cheery receptionist that yes, they’re the ones here for covering up their soulmark tattoos and, yes, they’re absolutely sure about this.

“Excited?” Kuroo asks, anticipation tight in his voice and apparent in his smile. 

They take seats next to each other in matching tattoo chairs, but Bokuto feels miles away. He tries to get comfortable, but it feels all wrong. No matter how he shifts in the chair, it doesn’t feel right. “Yeah, it’s just scary, you know?”

Kuroo’s eyes narrow, a surefire way to get Bokuto to squirm in his seat. “Are you having second thoughts?” 

“No! It’s just a big part of me. And it’s…forever.” It feels a little silly, considering that their soulmate marks are forever, but Bokuto can’t help the last-minute jitters and doubts. Unlike soulmate tattoos, which appear from birth, this is something he’s freely choosing to put on his body.

Kuroo opens his mouth to say something, but their tattoo artist appears and cuts him off with a greeting. He asks how they’re doing and if they’re hyped about the tattoo cover ups. Kuroo takes the lead, probably sensing Bokuto’s uncomfortability by the way he keeps tugging at his wristband.

“It’s gonna look so raw,” the tattoo artist says, still looking at the piece of paper they both drew on and negotiated for months. “Alright, show me those marks and let’s see what we’re working with.”

Bokuto tugs off his wristband and winces at how new it feels having his wrist exposed. It’s too cold and he misses the comforting hug of the wristband against his skin already. He offers up his wrist on the chair’s armrest, looking over to Kuroo’s wrist for the first time.

The way they laugh in time together, eat their eggs the same way, enjoy the same crappy music, Bokuto expected to see an owl-like cluster of rorschach blots along Kuroo’s wrist, but Kuroo’s tattoo looks nothing like Bokuto’s. Kuroo’s mark is bent like an arched cat hissing, a thin string of blots twisting into a tail. 

Bokuto’s eyes dart to Kuroo’s, finding his gaze focused on the tattoo artist preparing Bokuto’s wrist and his lips pulled into a tight, white line. 

“Hey.”

Kuroo looks up to Bokuto and tries to smile, as though he isn’t as devastated as Bokuto that their soulmate marks don’t match. “Hey.”

Bokuto winces as the tattoo artist takes his wrist into hand and begins to work. The first sting of ink piercing his flesh is quick and painful, but Bokuto manages to smile through it. “Even if I had to do it all over, I’d choose you again and again.”

-

Bokuto’s honest enough to admit that he’d wished they were soulmates to begin with, but his crushed hope fades as soon as it appeared. The rest of the day passes exactly the way they planned: in delicious cake, whipped cream kisses, and shared laughter. It’s not until they’re curled around each other at night, admiring the tattoos on their wrists, that Bokuto thinks of it again. And really, he wouldn’t have given it a second thought if not for Kuroo tracing the edges of the new tattoos with a stiffly held frown.

“You okay?” Bokuto asks, finally taking Kuroo’s wrist into hand. He can’t lie; it’s still surreal seeing a mark identical to his own on Kuroo’s wrist, but it’s not an entirely bad feeling. It’s scary without the wristband covering up and Bokuto still gets a bit freaked out when he looks to his hand and sees it’s missing, but it’s freeing. Seeing Kuroo’s matching mark next to his own makes Bokuto’s stomach do somersaults, kind of like it used to when they started dating.

Kuroo keeps staring, sighing out an equally stiff, “yeah.”

“You’re so not!” Bokuto squeezes his hand, careful to avoid irritating the tattoo. Kuroo’s lips purse and Bokuto knows he’s not going to get an answer out of him like this, so he starts tickling the backs of Kuroo’s knees until Kuroo’s spiked laughs bounce off the walls.

“O-Okay! Cut it-- _Haaaah--_ Cut it out!” he begs, body still twitching beneath Bokuto’s touch and shaking from a string of forced laughter. 

Bokuto eases up, only because he wants to lay on his boyfriend. Kuroo heaves out a breath but doesn’t say anything about it, just raising a single brow to Bokuto’s shit-eating grin. Bokuto shoves a finger in Kuroo’s face, eyes lighting up. “Ah! There it is!”

“What?” 

Bokuto smiles at Kuroo’s rare display of self-consciousness, poking the dimples in Kuroo’s cheek again. “My boyfriend’s smile.”

“Asshole,” Kuroo laughs out while batting Bokuto hand away.

Bokuto childishly sticks his tongue out in response. He’s already caught Kuroo’s hand in his own again, lacing his hand into the spaces between Kuroo’s fingers. “But seriously, what’s up?” 

Kuroo’s smile falls and his gaze swoops to the side. “It’s stupid. And don’t call me out because I know it already.” 

Bokuto waits for him to continue but Kuroo doesn’t, not at first. Bokuto tries not to shift uncomfortably, but it’s hard not to push Kuroo for an immediate answer. He offers what little comfort he can without rushing Kuroo, Bokuto’s fingers petting, squeezing, playing with Kuroo’s fingers until he’s ready to talk. 

After taking a deep breath, Kuroo quietly admits, “I just… I was hoping they’d already match.”

Bokuto feels his head tilt before he’s even aware of it, too surprised by the answer. Bokuto had been harboring such insecurities for awhile, but Kuroo always insisted that there was no need for them to be soulmates, even seemed proud of the fact they weren’t. _“You_ wanted them to match? But you hate them!”

 _“I know!”_ Kuroo groans in embarrassment. He shrugs casually even though his tone is anything but casual. “I told you not to come for me! Look, I wanted us to be soulmates, okay? There, I said it!”

Bokuto snuggles up to his man, pushing his nose against Kuroo’s cheek. Kuroo can bat it away all he wants but it does nothing to deter Bokuto’s sweet nothings. 

“We _are_ soulmates, dumbass,” Bokuto insists fondly. He flips over his wrist and holds it against Kuroo’s, smiling down at where their markings meet and bleed into one. “See? We match.”

Kuroo’s smile is small and reluctant, but Bokuto loves it. Kuroo twists them both so that they’re on their sides, facing each other. Bokuto’s ready to hook a leg over Kuroo’s waist and suggest they get onto the obligatory birthday sex, but Kuroo’s hand falls heavily on his hip. “What about whoever matched us to begin with? Don’t you feel bad for them?”

“No,” Bokuto says bluntly, and he can tell Kuroo’s about to fight him on how he could be so cruel, but Bokuto shakes his head stubbornly, refusing to hear it. “Hear me out. We’re soulmates and we match now, right? Doesn’t it feel better now than it did before?”

Inside, Bokuto’s pleased by how his perception seems to catch Kuroo off guard, but he tries not to show it. “Yeah, but…”

“No buts! It feels like we’re really connected. It feels _right._ So what if this is the way it was meant to happen?” Bokuto suggests. He rests his head in the curve of Kuroo’s shoulder, still close enough to hold his eyes and admire the way Kuroo’s bedhead manages to look prettier when Bokuto messes with it. “Maybe there is no other person for us both. Maybe we needed to meet and make ourselves match.”

“Huh.” Kuroo’s stony expression begins to crumble, his brow melting into a soft curve. “Sometimes I can’t tell if you’re an idiot or a genius.”

“Don’t call your soulmate an idiot!” Bokuto barks back, but it’s already forgotten, lost somewhere among their kisses.

**Author's Note:**

> feel free to hmu on [tumblr](https://90stimkon.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/cloneboys), or [consider commissioning me](https://90stimkon.tumblr.com/post/162750545663/commission-me)!


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